As the time when his identity had to be proved approached, this rigour was, in a trifling degree, relaxed, and a few persons were occasionally admitted to the ward, but only in the presence of Austin. He had a great contempt for the sections the “theorizers” produced. Mother? Suzanne Valade, her mother? With deliberation, he spoke. . “I——” The door opened, and the doctor entered softly. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life.
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